Since Coronavirus started locking down cities and states, I thought about wanting to find a way to help. Support in any way. I looked up making masks, dropping off groceries to the high-risk population, but before I could do so- our own situation changed and it wasn't safe for me to do so anymore (the last thing I would want to do is spread the virus further). The last few weeks were not what I was expecting, but that's life for you. It hits you in ways that you never expected. So, this is our story.
Please be aware: We wanted to merge our stories together for a full view of the patient and caregiver perspectives, but Ron is very factual, and Grace is very emotional (and sometimes my stories dive way too deep into the details). :) Take that into account as you read!
Grace:
A little backstory before Ron got sick (that's how I view things now- pre, during, and post sickness). I had just left my job late February, and decided to do a bit of traveling before starting the next job. When I left the country, COVID news was starting to pick up, but what I was reading was still saying that things weren't that serious. While I was traveling, day by day, it started looking more and more severe. I started reading that the States were going to direct all international flights through particular airports to ensure that people were screened prior to entering the country. Thankfully, although the state of Victoria announced a state of emergency on the same day as my flight, my travel wasn't disrupted and I was able to come back to the States relatively easily through LAX.
Ron and I actually had prior plans to be in LA that week, for a friends wedding, which was unfortunately postponed. With everything that was going on, I decided it would be good to still spend some time in LA with my family, and Ron would stay in NY. Sometimes I wonder if Ron had come with me on my trip, maybe he wouldn't have gotten sick. Anyway, after LA, I returned to NYC the same day that it imposed its curfew, Sun, March 22. Ron picked me up at the airport, and dropped me off at my place. Since I was starting my new job, I wanted to take some time and get my place ready for the WFH (work from home) situation. Ron was cat-sitting for a friend who was out of the country, and since I'm allergic to cats, I decided I would visit on the weekend, since Ron had his friend's car and we could get around without public transportation.
Fast forward a few days into the week, Ron texted on Wed, 3/25 that he wasn't feeling well. I figured it was probably the flu, but that I would head over to Queens where he was staying, and help take care of him. I made some broth, picked up some food, and headed over after work on Thurs. By this time, he said he wasn't feeling well enough to drive, but he was also worried that if I ordered a Lyft, that I may run into problems. Unfortunately, there's been a lot of discrimination against Asians everywhere recently. While I was concerned, I took the risk- I wanted to make sure he was ok. Thankfully, I had a driver who was so grateful that I called a ride, that he thanked me for the ride.
For the next couple of days, Ron seemed sick, but not horrible. He even played a game of online poker with friends. By the time the weekend rolled around though, he pretty much was bedridden.
From here, we'll switch off between the both of us:
Ron: As Grace mentioned, I first noticed symptoms on Wednesday, the 25th of March. I just felt oddly over-fatigued. So I checked my resting heart rate stats (which are tracked by my Apple Watch), and it showed that my average resting heart rate had been increasing since at least the 23rd. But at this point, I had no cough nor fever, so I figured it was just a cold of some sort. By Friday, I had a fever of 99 and a small cough. By the weekend, I had lost my sense of taste and smell, with a fever ranging from 101 - 103.6 and a consistent cough. Even water tasted strange. My mouth had a constant plastic taste to it. The only thing that tasted great was good ol’ OJ. I also started to get the runs. That sucked.
Grace: Beginning from that weekend and for about a week, he stopped eating. I would constantly refill his water and OJ, about every hour, but he never had much of an appetite. As he said, he really liked OJ, and was drinking it a lot, so I stocked up and had about 6 Costco orange juice containers in the fridge at one point. But since Ron was also tracking his food intake, about a few days in, he said he thought the sugar levels in the OJ may be too high and he should be having more water instead. From then on, it was 2.5 cups of OJ and trying to hit a goal of 10 cups of water a day. I started tracking every time I gave him anything to ensure that it was enough and we weren't overdoing anything.
At the beginning, I joked that I was playing nurse. But it was at this point that it started feeling very real. I felt like I had to ensure that he was drinking enough, eating enough, getting enough nutrients. But I was also working, and still in the first 2 weeks of starting my job, so while I was running around, I'm not sure that I pushed him to eat as much as he should have.
Ron: Within the next couple days, whenever I closed my eyes to sleep, I would involuntarily make loud humming and ahh-ing sounds. I’m not really sure how else to describe it. Maybe Grace can, she could hear me through the wall (I feel bad for the neighbors). While I was totally aware I was doing it, I just couldn’t stop, and I’d drift off to sleep regardless. The paranoid in me thought I was suffering from some kind of brain damage. But it thankfully stopped a few days later. For what it’s worth, I did observe an old man doing something similar when I was in the ER later in the week. He didn’t end up making it. 😥
Grace: It wasn't really humming sounds, but rather Ron mumbling nonstop. It was weird, because we would talk, and I could sense that he was starting to fall asleep. Normally, I think people just quietly fall asleep. I could tell the moment that Ron fell asleep, because he would start mumbling consistently. It was like he was having a whole conversation by himself. One of the days, I walked in while he was mumbling/sleeping, but he coherently asked me where the ruler was. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I asked, "What ruler?". He responded by asking me "How much is the ruler? Can you find the depth?" I was utterly confused. I asked him later, and he said he had a dream about measuring a fish tank and wanting to find the right proportion of sand to fill it. Even in his sick delirious state, his love of fish tanks and perfection shone through. 😂
Ron: On Monday morning, I felt better! I managed to get out of bed and eat some breakfast. Unfortunately, that didn't last very long. Within 2 hours, I felt even worse. I returned to bed and pretty much stayed there. I had a high fever, yet felt intensely cold. I'd stack four blankets on me, and it still wouldn't be enough. So Monday was pretty miserable. Eventually, thanks to the magic of the Internet, I discovered that ibuprofen and acetaminophen both helped with fevers, so I messaged Grace (she was isolating by sleeping in the living room) that I could really use one of those. Eventually I fell asleep regardless...
The next day we managed to find some ibuprofen in the house. That made me feel immensely better. I went from having chills to feeling incredibly hot, which I much rather preferred. I did sweat up a storm in bed, though. It was like a sarcophagus of water. But at least I was relatively comfortable. I could actually sit up and read. Until it came time to sleep anyway. I don't know if it was the ibuprofen or what, but I had some crazy hallucinations and intense fever dreams. I decided not to take any more ibuprofen after that dosage wore off. We found some Excedrin after that, which is an acetaminophen, and that worked amazingly well. It helped with the intense headaches I was having, too. But the downside was that Excedrin has caffeine, and I very much wanted to be able to sleep. We reached out to a couple of friends who lived nearby to see if they had Tylenol or any other pure acetaminophen, and our friends Khanh and Lauren pulled through, both dropping off plenty of the drug, which really made the next few days much more bearable.
Tuesday night, March 31, was the scariest, though. My breathing had become so rapid, shallow, and borderline manual. I timed myself with a stop watch and I was inhaling about every 1.4 seconds. It felt like my lung capacity was the size of two medium chicken eggs. I was convinced if I went to sleep that I may not awaken. So I didn’t sleep. If you haven’t read about NJ’s Patient Zero in the NYT, you should check it out. He goes through some similar experiences.
The next day we managed to find some ibuprofen in the house. That made me feel immensely better. I went from having chills to feeling incredibly hot, which I much rather preferred. I did sweat up a storm in bed, though. It was like a sarcophagus of water. But at least I was relatively comfortable. I could actually sit up and read. Until it came time to sleep anyway. I don't know if it was the ibuprofen or what, but I had some crazy hallucinations and intense fever dreams. I decided not to take any more ibuprofen after that dosage wore off. We found some Excedrin after that, which is an acetaminophen, and that worked amazingly well. It helped with the intense headaches I was having, too. But the downside was that Excedrin has caffeine, and I very much wanted to be able to sleep. We reached out to a couple of friends who lived nearby to see if they had Tylenol or any other pure acetaminophen, and our friends Khanh and Lauren pulled through, both dropping off plenty of the drug, which really made the next few days much more bearable.
Tuesday night, March 31, was the scariest, though. My breathing had become so rapid, shallow, and borderline manual. I timed myself with a stop watch and I was inhaling about every 1.4 seconds. It felt like my lung capacity was the size of two medium chicken eggs. I was convinced if I went to sleep that I may not awaken. So I didn’t sleep. If you haven’t read about NJ’s Patient Zero in the NYT, you should check it out. He goes through some similar experiences.
Grace: We went to the ER for the first time the next day, on April 1st. I didn't know at the time that Ron hadn't slept and the level of seriousness it had reached with his breathing. I should've known though, because that night that he mentioned above, we discussed hospital options if it came down to it, and where we would go. We were lucky that his friend we're cat-sitting for has a car that they have been letting us use, as I couldn't anticipate hailing a cab or calling an ambulance. Prior to this, I had never driven in the city. Sure- I drive in LA when I'm home, but NYC has always felt like a different beast. By this time, I had made a few grocery store runs with the car, so I was a little bit more comfortable driving. Thank goodness the roads were pretty empty, but I was still a nervous wreck, especially since I knew that we were going because Ron thought it was severe enough that he needed to get checked out. I took deep breaths and put on my brave face, as I know I needed to be strong for the both of us.
Ron: We went to Mt Sinai Queens because I had heard on the news that Elmhurst was pretty overrun. Walking from the ER to meet the doctor was brutal. I just couldn’t keep up with the security guard. I was shuffling around like an 80 year old. I could see that my heart rate was jumping all over the place, going really high, 140s, to 47, which was very, very low for me. I slowed my pace even more and eventually made it. Unfortunately, Mt Sinai was pretty backed up as well. The doctor said I likely had it, but that they weren’t going to test me and they weren’t going to admit me. My O2 levels at this point were still at 95%, which I guess didn’t meet the critical cutoff.
Grace:
I dropped Ron off at the Urgent Care entrance, as we thought that was where he needed to go and went to find parking. It took me a few minutes, as I had to find parking on the street, and I ran back as soon as I could. They said they weren't admitting any visitors to Urgent Care, and re-directed me to the common hospital entrance half a block down. Upon entering, I was breathing heavily with my own mask and asked if they had admitted Ron. They told me that if he didn't have a prior appointment, that they would have directed him to the ER, which was past the Urgent Care entrance, and around the street corner. By now I'm frantic, as I know he's not in great condition, I can't find him, and as I'm running to the ER, I get a text from him saying that he couldn't find the ER entrance. I run in and check, he's made it to the lounge area, but he said he got lost. It's important to note because Ron is normally great at directions (he has to correct me even when he's driving and GPS is on with me "attempting" to guide us), and for him to have gotten lost when the direction was "exit and then turn left at the street corner" made me worried that he wouldn't be able to fully explain his symptoms to the doctors. Regardless, I could only see him through the glass between the Welcome Desk and the lounge- they wouldn't let me in. I explained that I've been taking care of him and that I was the one to drop him off. They told me that they weren't letting any of the visitors in, and that I'd just have to wait outside.
After ensuring through text that he was ok to wait there by himself, I walked out. Not knowing what to do, I just stood outside the hospital entrance on the sidewalk. and cried. There weren't many people around, only an occasional person who would scurry by. I waited about an hour but since I wasn't sure what was happening and didn't want to leave the area, and it was too cold to be outside, I walked back to the car and then cried some more. (Thank goodness I had bought Kleenex from Costco and just had extra boxes in the car). 2 and a half hours later, Ron said that they were discharging him, but recommended that he take Robitusson and more rest. Thank you to pharmacies and essential workers for staying open, as there was one around the corner, and I was able to pick up the last big bottle of Robitussin while they were filling out his discharge paperwork.
After we got back, my sister happened to text asking if Ron and I needed masks. At this point, I hadn't told my family anything because I didn't want anyone else to worry. Due to the stressful day and the timing, I called her and let it all out. The next day she overnighted masks made by my brother in laws mother, Lysol wipes, gloves and a CPAP machine. (While not ideal, we read that a CPAP could force air into the lungs and we decided to have it here if needed. It also happens to spray the room with the patients breath, so if someone is coming in to take care of the patient it may be dangerous, even if they're wearing a mask).
That night, Ron asked that I check up on him while he was sleeping to ensure that he was still breathing. At the time, I didn't know that he hadn't slept the night prior. I was terrified. I'd already turned off my do not disturb notifications so that my phone would go off if he texted me at any time. I slept with my phone under my pillow so that I'd definitely wake up. But that night, I set an alarm for every few hours throughout the night so that I could check on him. But I didn't know how frequently I needed to check to ensure his safety. Should I just sleep outside the bedroom door? Should I wear a mask and sleep in a chair in the room? To make things worse, I couldn't stop reading the news and had just read a story about a 30 yr old man who died overnight while his wife isolated herself in the living room. I was right next door, but if I was sleeping, how would I know he was ok? I set my alarms and convinced myself that I could hear him mumbling through the wall and would notice if he stopped. I'm not sure how we did it, but thank goodness we got through that night.
Ron:
Fortunately, I broke the fever within the next day. Once in awhile the fever would creep back to 100, but for the most part, I was at a healthy 98 - 99. I thought the worst was over, but I was still having a lot of trouble breathing. I remained bedridden, since I still felt completely exhausted. Even showering left me breathless. I don't think the hot, moist air was doing my lungs any favors. I had to open the bathroom window so that I could breathe the cold, dense air through the screen. I was also having a lot of trouble getting hydrated. No matter how much I drank, it just never seemed to help. I was drinking even when I wasn't thirsty.
On the 3rd, Grace woke me up to celebrate my birthday with a wonderful birthday video from some friends. I actually only vaguely remember this happening, since I was still pretty out of it, but I do remember feeling happy! There were also chocolate cupcakes involved, of which I only could handle a bite.
At this point, another friend of mine, Freddy, overnighted his oximeter to me (thanks Freddy!). But due to a perfect storm of events, it was held at the local USPS (my friend forgot to put a name on the package, there was a mail hold in place at our current address, etc). It took us a few days to unravel the restrictions. That and Grace befriended the mailman, who amazingly knew exactly which package we were talking about.
On the 6th, we finally got the oximeter. We quickly tried it on me, and it read my O2 levels as 78-83%, which honestly meant nothing to me. Apparently those are bad numbers, though. I’ve since read that respiratory failure can be imminent at that point, but I really have no idea. I consulted with a couple Teledocs (One Medical and Mt Sinai’s) and they both said to go back to the ER.
On the 3rd, Grace woke me up to celebrate my birthday with a wonderful birthday video from some friends. I actually only vaguely remember this happening, since I was still pretty out of it, but I do remember feeling happy! There were also chocolate cupcakes involved, of which I only could handle a bite.
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| Thank you to these lovely faces! |
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| Birthday cupcake |
On the 6th, we finally got the oximeter. We quickly tried it on me, and it read my O2 levels as 78-83%, which honestly meant nothing to me. Apparently those are bad numbers, though. I’ve since read that respiratory failure can be imminent at that point, but I really have no idea. I consulted with a couple Teledocs (One Medical and Mt Sinai’s) and they both said to go back to the ER.
Grace:
When Ron was talking to one of the teledocs, I think she didn't believe that his levels were that low, and that the oximeter must be giving wrong numbers. Ron asked that I come in and test my O2 levels, which was at 98%. She immediately, in a calm but firm manner, told us that she didn't want to scare us, but that we should immediately get him to the hospital. Last time, I hadn't prepared, I didn't know how long we'd be there, but this time, I had a list of things to pack: a wire charger for the phone and a fully charged battery pack. I had been keeping my phone charged at all times in case we needed to pick up and go, but it was for him to use.
Driving him to the ER the second time I was less nervous, I'd driven this road before, we'd done this before, I know they'll make me stand outside. After I dropped him off and found parking, I ran to the ER just to check that they'd accepted him. I arrived just in time to see him sitting in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank. "See?" said the welcome receptionist, "he's going to be ok, they're taking care of him now."
While I was waiting I witnessed this scene below:
I didn't know it at the time, but NY had started cheering for health care workers at 7 pm everyday. Outside of the hospital, a lot of fire trucks were parked outside honking and playing songs. They stood on their ladders and clapped for the heath care workers.
After 4 hours of waiting, he texted me that they were going to keep him overnight. My mind went blank. What did this mean? How severe is his case? How long would they keep him? I thought they'd check him out like last time, perhaps recommend some medicine, and let him come home. To make things worse, we only had one pair of keys for his friends' apartment, and he forgot to give it to me. He passed the keys to a nurse, texted me a codeword, which I had to repeat back to the nurse when she came outside to find me, and she would then hand me the keys. When she came outside, I started asking her questions on his condition, but all she told me was "I don't know about his condition and I'm not authorized to say anything." With the keys in hand, and no real information, I had to drive back to the apartment without him. I fed the cats, texted with Ron for a bit, and waited while he told me they were still looking for a bed for him, but around midnight, I had to sleep. I wasn't sure there was anything else I could do. I felt so helpless and the guilt of still being healthy washed over me. Why him?
Ron: So we went back to Mt Sinai Queens around 3:30 PM, and this time, they admitted me. They were still pretty backed up, though. I had to wait in a wheel chair in a makeshift cubicle in their lobby for about 9 hours waiting for a bed to open up. But at least I had an O2 tank, which made breathing much easier, and an IV with a saline drip, which helped with the thirst a little bit. Still, thinking about the wait was a bit macabre. By what means was this bed going to open up? Was I literally waiting for someone to die? I hoped that I was waiting for someone to get better. I put my thoughts on something else.
I mentioned to one of the nurses about my insatiable thirst and she replied with my O2 levels that was to be expected, that at my levels, no amount of water was going to hydrate me. Who knew they were linked?
Waiting in a chair in my condition for 9 hours was a bit challenging. I ached to lie down and sleep. I considered leaving the ER and just having Grace take me back to the apartment. I mean, some rest must be better than sitting in an upright chair for hours right? But eventually, some time around 1 AM I did get a bed. The ER was definitely beyond capacity. Every bay and every isolation room was filled. Patients in gurneys even filled walkways. At times, it was a bit difficult to get the nurses' attention. Sometimes, I wouldn't be given water for several hours, or only a small breakfast and no more food for the rest of the day.
They put me on an "8" for oxygen with a nasal cannula. No idea what units the 8 is in, but it definitely helped.
As I mentioned before, there was an old man next to me who was making a lot of humming and yelping sounds as he slept, similar to the ones I had been making. I hoped that this meant he'd make it, since I had gone through the same stage.
After they ran some tests and CT scans on me, they wheeled my gurney into a walkway. There was probably someone more critical that needed my bay, so it made sense to me. The entire ER was so well lit and full of the whirring and beeping sounds of machines, it didn't really seem to matter where they put you anyway. But it really highlighted how full the ER was. Once in awhile, EMTs would show up with a new patient in a gurney, and nurses play Tetris with the patients to clear a passageway.
My CT scan results:
IMPRESSION:
1. Potential acute pulmonary embolism within a right lower lobe
segmental pulmonary artery. The lungs are motion degraded with
patient respiratory artifact, particularly the lower lobes.
2. Peripheral bilateral, multilobar groundglass opacity with severe
disease burden. Commonly reported imaging findings of viral pneumonia
(COVID-19) are present. Other processes such as influenza pneumonia
and organizing pneumonia, as can be seen with drug toxicity and
connective tissue disease, can cause a similar imaging pattern.
3. The main pulmonary artery is enlarged, measuring up to 3.2 cm in
diameter. Findings may represent pulmonary arterial hypertension.
Notification to clinician of alert:
Provider Dr. Zepeda was notified about these findings by
Dr. Chan on 4/7/2020 1:23 PM. Readback confirmation was
obtained.
During my time there, they gave me blood thinner. The CT scan showed a possible clot in the lungs. They also gave me the controversial anti-malarial drug hydroxychloroquine. I think at this point they were just seeing what sticks. I would eventually start taking anti-bacterial meds for my lungs as well. Not to fight the virus, but to fight any bacterial pneumonia that may try to take residence.
Next to me in the hallway was another old man. I overheard the nurses say he came from a nursing home. He was asleep on oxygen. I never observed him awaken my entire time there. Unfortunately, a couple hours later, I saw some nurses point towards the first old man's bay and say they needed to call a time of death. That was sad. Then a few hours after that, the second old man audibly started having trouble breathing. The nurses quickly wheeled him away. I hope he made it...
After 1 day in the ER, they transferred me to a hospital bedroom. I didn't think I could be wowed by a hospital room, but I guess a day in the ER will do that to you. My new room had a door, lights that could be dimmed, and a crazy adjustable bed that also seemed to somehow self adjust itself based on my body after I raised or lowered it. I also got regular meals and my own pitcher of water!
After a day in the room, they told me my case was less critical since it was just a matter of giving me O2 out of a tank at this point (and a daily cocktail of drugs), so I agreed to be transferred to the Javits center. I was a bit wary to be put under Federal care since the Federal response has been fairly terrible and it seemed like a huge unknown to me. But I was transferred to the Central Park field hospital instead. A 20 and 22 year old picked me up in their ambulance. That was a bit surreal. They looked like children. Anyway, that was Wednesday. Tent life was interesting. It was the most advanced tent I’ve seen, but when it started to snow outside, it could get cold. Thankfully, there was a heater inside that they would crank up. But going to the bathroom in a porta potty sitting in the middle of Central Park in a hospital gown was still pretty miserable. On the other hand, there were hot shower facilities, too, so that was nice. But just showering would take all the energy out of me.
One of my tentmates was an 85 year old Sicilian man. He didn't speak much English, but would mix in a bit with Sicilian. I'm not sure how long he had been there, but he clearly seemed to be getting a little stir crazy. He often argued with the nurses, but he was nice to me, though. He understandably wanted to go home, and didn't really seem to understand why they were holding him there. He didn't sleep much my first two nights. It seemed like he wanted to take his walker and get out of the tent. One night he grabbed my shoe and started attacking his bed with it. Then he hit one of the nurses in the face with it. That was a bit shocking. The nurse took it in stride, though. They managed to corral him back to bed. They were hoping to get him home by his 86th birthday on Friday the 10th, but unfortunately, his family couldn't make arrangements. With Grace's help though, we managed to get cannolis for the tent to celebrate. But he was so tired from not sleeping, he pretty much slept through most of Friday and Saturday.
After a day in the room, they told me my case was less critical since it was just a matter of giving me O2 out of a tank at this point (and a daily cocktail of drugs), so I agreed to be transferred to the Javits center. I was a bit wary to be put under Federal care since the Federal response has been fairly terrible and it seemed like a huge unknown to me. But I was transferred to the Central Park field hospital instead. A 20 and 22 year old picked me up in their ambulance. That was a bit surreal. They looked like children. Anyway, that was Wednesday. Tent life was interesting. It was the most advanced tent I’ve seen, but when it started to snow outside, it could get cold. Thankfully, there was a heater inside that they would crank up. But going to the bathroom in a porta potty sitting in the middle of Central Park in a hospital gown was still pretty miserable. On the other hand, there were hot shower facilities, too, so that was nice. But just showering would take all the energy out of me.
One of my tentmates was an 85 year old Sicilian man. He didn't speak much English, but would mix in a bit with Sicilian. I'm not sure how long he had been there, but he clearly seemed to be getting a little stir crazy. He often argued with the nurses, but he was nice to me, though. He understandably wanted to go home, and didn't really seem to understand why they were holding him there. He didn't sleep much my first two nights. It seemed like he wanted to take his walker and get out of the tent. One night he grabbed my shoe and started attacking his bed with it. Then he hit one of the nurses in the face with it. That was a bit shocking. The nurse took it in stride, though. They managed to corral him back to bed. They were hoping to get him home by his 86th birthday on Friday the 10th, but unfortunately, his family couldn't make arrangements. With Grace's help though, we managed to get cannolis for the tent to celebrate. But he was so tired from not sleeping, he pretty much slept through most of Friday and Saturday.
Grace:
When they moved Ron to Central Park, he was keeping me updated, but the hospital also called me to let me know that they had moved him. I asked if that meant he was good, and she hesitated when she said, "Well, he's not severe enough to be kept here, he's stable, but we still need to continue monitoring him." I asked another of Ron's friends to help cat-sit so that I could stay in my apt, which was much closer to Central Park than where we were in Queens. At this point, they had diagnosed Ron with pneumonia in both his lungs, and we weren't sure how long they would keep him for. Since I didn't expect when I dropped him off that he would be staying overnight, and definitely not for multiple nights, the battery pack wasn't enough. The Wed he was moved, he told me his phone was only at 11% and that his battery might die. Since that was our only form of communication, I immediately panicked and he sent me the contact info of a person I could reach out to to see if I could drop off some things for him. He asked for a wall charger so that he could charge his phone. With my company being gracious enough to give us all Thurs and Fri off for Passover, I packed my things and headed back to Manhattan on Thurs. I put together a care package for Ron including some fresh clothes, ear plugs, eye mask, a couple wall chargers, a longer charging cable (seriously, how important are these long cables?), a card and a Kit Kat. I walked 30 mins to Central Park from my place, and found the Central Park Field Hospital across the street from the Mt. Sinai on the Upper East. There were metal barricades blocking the entrance, with police offers stationed right in front. I called a woman named Mel, who came out with a mask and gloves, and took the care package. I sat down outside the park and waited. Within minutes, Ron texted me that he got the package.
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| Sitting on a bench outside the Field Hospital waiting for Ron to get his package |
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| Ron confirming receipt of care package. |
Knowing that he could receive items, the next day I planned a more elaborate drop off: Ron said that he hadn't had hot food in days and that his appetite was coming back. I picked up a pizza from &Pizza (I love that they've been so supportive and caring to give away pizzas to health care workers during this time), 25 cannolis that Ron wanted to share with the nurses and his tentmates, and a few more personal items. Special thanks to Tre Otto for helping with the cannolis. When I told them I wanted to order 20 cannolis for some patients and their nurses, they were surprised, and not only gave me a discount, but additional cannolis! After consolidating all the items, I once again called Mel, who came out to meet me. This time though, there was some miscommunication about the cannolis and the care package, and it took over an hour to get to Ron. By the time he got the pizza, it was cold. 😔
Then came Saturday, April 11. The first thing I had been doing every morning when I woke up was text Ron and wait for a reply. This time, it was good news. He said that they thought he could be discharged that day. He asked if I could pick him up in the afternoon. When the time came, I drove over, called another woman, who would release him once they knew I was there. They told me to park right in front of the barricades, and that the guards would know I was there to pick up a discharged patient. I parked in front as instructed, and watched as Ron slowly made his way out. The guards clapped for him as they've been doing for discharged patients, but I cried as I watched him walk out. I hadn't seen him for almost a week now, and I can't even explain the relief that I felt as soon as I saw him. I thought that since he was being discharged, that that meant he was all better. But he was still walking pretty slowly. He also looked much thinner, and when we checked, he had lost 18 lbs during this time.
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| Ron on discharge day with some of the nurses who took care of him |
As we're playing the waiting game until Ron's completely better, I can safely say that that the worst is behind us. Ron still checks his oxygen levels frequently with the oximeter, but it has slowly started to creep back up to normal levels. His heart rate is still unusually high, though, and short walks will cause his heart rate to skyrocket (once going to 172 BPM). Doctors are guessing it may be a few weeks before we see normalcy. But he's better enough to start playing games again, which means we're getting there. 😄
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| Ron's official "I had COVID-19" badge |
During this experience, the term "it takes a whole village to raise a child" came to my mind. The importance of family, friends and a strong community. We're lucky to have an amazing supportive network who helped us with things that we so desperately needed.
Special thanks to the following people:
Special thanks to the following people:
- Martha and Josh for overnighting us a care package with supplies including masks, gloves, Lysol wipes, a CPAP machine
- Grace's parents for risking their own health to go out and mail us vitamins, more masks, a whole can of Clorox wipes (seriously, I haven't even seen any of these in NY recently)
- Freddy for sending an oximeter
- Khanh for supplying acetaminophen
- Lauren for not only providing us cleaning supplies and medicine, but also giving me her parking spot when I drove back alone at night after leaving Ron at the hospital and needed the extra support
Continuing the positivity train: for those who aren't in NY- at 7 pm every night, NY'ers have been cheering for the health care workers. It had rained all day this day, but it took a break and was beautiful during this time. I even heard later that there were rainbows that came out that day, but we didn't see them.
On a final note, I'll just leave this here. A week post-discharge, a late celebration for his birthday.
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